


Heavy and Heartfelt

by Cavalierious



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Boys In Love, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, PDA, Smidge of Sylvain's self-deprecating tendencies, Sylvix Week 2020 (Fire Emblem)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26600815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cavalierious/pseuds/Cavalierious
Summary: Contrary to popular belief, Sylvain isn’t one for public displays of affection.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 73
Collections: Sylvix Week 2020 Fic Collection





	Heavy and Heartfelt

**Author's Note:**

> Is it rated G if I've used the word fucking?

_ Pining/Longing | ~~PDA~~ | College AU _

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, Sylvain isn’t one for public displays of affection. 

Wooing women within an inch of their life, arm slung around their shoulders as he pulls them close? Sure. Necking them against the wall of a semi-public dark alley in the after-hours of tavern time? You bet. Parading them around on his arm like an expensive fur pelt, showing off his obvious wealth of charm? Absolutely. 

But when it comes to a relationship that actually means something? It puts him off, it makes him squirm, he doesn’t like the prying eyes of those around them, whispering words about how his affections mean nothing in the end because he’s  _ Sylvain. _

It’s a deeper problem, he’d be the first to admit. It’s an even deeper problem that he’s not sure that he wants to fix it. It’s easier when people say terrible things to your face and behind your back because if you are a known womanizer, people brush off your shitty qualities as a personal quirk. 

And when your personal quirk is to be a shitty person, you don’t have to be a good one. No one expects you to be.

The problem is that Sylvain  _ wants _ to be a good person. His intentions have shifted and he has no idea where even to start, his head already underwater and unable to pull himself from the riptide of life. 

Really, it’s all Felix’s fault, as everything always is. 

That morning they stumble out of his tent, their hair mussed, holding hands and lips kiss-bruised and swollen. To no one’s surprise. Ingrid had only sighed, rolling her eyes. Annette had bounced happily on the balls of her feet, eyes shining like a schoolgirl who’d been given her favorite candy (or in this case, a juicy piece of  _ gossip).  _ Mercedes just wore her knowing smile, hidden behind a carefully placed hand. 

Who the hell knew where Dimitri had wandered off to because it’s not like Sylvain keeps tabs on him. 

It’s a fragile and tentative thing, even if it’s been about a decade in the making. Even now as they sit and eat their breakfast around a small campfire, Sylvain doesn’t know how to broach the topic. 

“What?” asks Felix, nudging at Sylvain with his leg. They knock knees. 

“Nothing,” says Sylvain, already throwing up walls with practiced ease. But then he remembers that this is Felix, this is his love, this is the man who doesn’t care about his pretenses. So he lets them fall right back down. 

Felix stares, a tin mug full of campfire sludge held between his hands. Sylvain’s not picky about fare on the move, but even he knows that coffee should flow smoothly, not slide into a cup like slime. Felix doesn’t seem to even notice, drinking it straight without so much a grimace. 

Sylvain scoots to the side, placing distance between the two them. Felix follows, closing the gap immediately. Sylvain worries his lip between his teeth and Felix frowns, annoyed. 

“You regret it,” says Felix, accusatory. 

“No!” Sylvain immediately rebuffs, but it comes out more pitiful then planned, and not very honest sounding. 

Still, Felix reads him like he’s a damn open book. “Then what’s the problem?” Quiet and probing, but gentle. Or, gentle as far as Felix is concerned. To anyone else, it might seem anything but.

“Everyone knows.” Sylvain groans at the mere thought, dragging a hand down his face. 

Felix blinks, not quite comprehending. “Is that all?”

“Is that--  _ Felix.” _

Felix leans closer, setting his mug down on the camp bench as he reaches up and grabs Sylvain’s shirt. He tugs harshly and Sylvain falls closer, their lips close enough that they can feel the other’s breath. 

Sylvain pulls away first. “Felix, they’ll--”

“I know what they say,” says Felix. 

So, Sylvain just gives him  _ a look. _

And Felix gives him one right back, lips tugged into a severe frown. “And I know what they  _ will _ say,” says Felix. Sylvain winces. Felix is beyond annoyed, his words coming out hot and sharp, like the edge of a freshly sharpened blade. 

“Felix,” says Sylvain, “It’s different with you. I don’t want them--”

Felix, still holding onto his shirt, yanks him close roughly, lips pressing against his insistently, coaxing his mouth open with manuevers carefully studied the night before in Sylvain’s pitch-dark tent. It’s the kind of kiss that you sink into while everything else just disappears. The kind that causes whoops from others when observed from afar, that leads to claps on the back and congratulations in the hereafter. 

Ingrid’s the one that yells at them to get a fucking tent. 

When Felix pulls away, he’s still annoyed but his edges have softened and Sylvain realizes something in that moment. There’s a part of Felix that pities him, if only a little. 

“I wouldn’t have stayed if I cared about what they say,” says Felix when he finally lets go of Sylvain’s shirt. 

Sylvain catches Felix’s hand, holding it tightly between his own. “I love you,” he says. It’s the wrong time and place for the first time he’s said it, and he should have the night before instead. But he’d been too afraid to. Sylvain’s more afraid of this, and Felix, and how he feels about him than anyone he’ll ever meet on the battlefield. 

Felix snorts at that, but he smiles. 

And he doesn’t let go. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I made a [Twitter](https://twitter.com/_Cavalierious_) specifically to cater to the fact I've started writing again.


End file.
